


SHELTER

by erestor



Series: ACOTER [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, F/M, M/M, Melancholy, Sappy, Sappy Ending, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erestor/pseuds/erestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel learns that he does not know as much about Erestor as he thought. And Erestor finally confronts a part of his past he tried to forget..</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Eveiya

Most of the time, Glorfindel could read Erestor like an open book. No matter how indifferent the advisor seemed to be in the eyes of those around him, Glorfindel knew when he was sad, angry, happy or tired. After so many centuries shared, it had become natural for him and Erestor to finish each other's sentences or to understand the various meanings of a hand gesture or an arched eyebrow. The higher Erestor's left eyebrow arched towards his hairline, the more upset or puzzled he was.

Yes, most of the time, Glorfindel was convinced that nobody knew Erestor better than he did. But there were also those days when he wondered if he knew the advisor at all. There were days when Erestor left the Last Homely House without a word, and when Glorfindel found him, usually in the middle of the night, he would be sitting on a stone by the pond, staring out over the water, or lying on his back, gazing at the stars above. He never told Glorfindel what it was that drove him away. In the beginning, the warrior had thought that it might be sea-longing, but he soon realized that Erestor himself might not know what caused his melancholic mood. His worried questions remained unanswered, and as he did not wish to upset Erestor, he had stopped asking altogether.

Glorfindel knew what it was like to be haunted by demons so terrifying one did not dare to mention them, out of fear that they might become reality. One of his own demons wielded a fiery whip in his dreams, every lash burning deep into his flesh. The other demon, by now the worse, was the thought of coming home and finding Erestor gone. Glorfindel knew that the Balrog was gone, and Erestor was here, but still: speaking the words would magnify the terror tenfold. So he simply put his arm around Erestor, pressed a soft kiss on his cheek and then led him back to the Last Homely House. By the time they arrived, Erestor's mood had usually brightened and he was his old, friendly self again.

This morning, however, Erestor had not been friendly. The recipient of the advisor's anger had been Master Feronil, one of Elrond's advisors. He was most skilled when it came to trade and business; it was said that he could sell Telain to Dwarves and diets to Hobbits. Elrond appreciated him for this talent, but Feronil was also known to chase everything on two legs that was not a ladder, and was generally regarded as the black sheep of the flock.

Feronil, however, thought himself to be the wolf.

It had started out quite harmlessly. The city of Osgiliath had extended an invitation to Rivendell to join in the Harvest Celebrations, and now a representative had to be named to accept this invitation and participate in the festivities. Lord Elrond, who had returned from Gondor only two months ago, could not leave his responsibilities again so soon. Elrohir had flatly refused to leave his home, Elladan and Orophin claimed that they had to look after Eldanar, their newly adopted son, and so it had become obvious that a council member would have the privilege of two weeks of merriment, music and hangovers as well as a long, hard, dangerous journey, possible confrontations with Orcs and a difficult mountain passage.

The council had quickly agreed that Master Feronil was exactly the right Elf for such a mission.

Feronil, who had just devised a cunning plan to win over Lindir the minstrel – a plan destined to fail like all Feronil's previous plans of this kind – had not been delighted at all, and had tried to convince those present that Master Erestor would be far more suitable to represent Rivendell.

"Not only are you, as Lord Elrond's chief advisor, the perfect representative of this realm, you also speak the language of the people of Gondor much better than I do. Just think of the new friendships you could make, and how much Rivendell could benefit! And there will be free wine and women! Though the latter, of course, hold no interest for you," Feronil had added quickly when an angry growl could be heard from the direction of Glorfindel’s seat.

"There is no way in Mordor that Erestor will undertake such a long journey," Glorfindel had snapped, "if you are not Elf enough to go, then I suggest we politely explain that none of us is available. They will not hold a grudge. I hope."

"Lord Glorfindel, I fully understand your concerns, but at times, individuals have to make sacrifices for the benefit of the community," Feronil smugly countered.

"There will be a sacrifice here any moment now, Master Feronil, and it will definitely be for the benefit of this community!" Glorfindel had barked, and Feronil had hastily taken two steps back, out of Glorfindel's reach.

"I do not wish to go to Osgiliath. I have a child to look after," Erestor had stated, giving Feronil a stern look which clearly indicated that this was his last word.

Unfortunately, Feronil only accepted the last word when it was spoken by him.

"Dear Master Erestor – your son would stay here in the care of Lord Glorfindel. And do you not wish to see Osgiliath again? I thought you were overly fond of the place? I remember how often you …"

Feronil did not manage to finish his sentence, because Erestor had jumped up, grabbed him by the collar, drawn the surprised advisor close, and was shaking him roughly.

"Which part of 'no' is it you do not understand, Master Feronil?" he hissed, baring his teeth at Feronil, who, for the first time, noticed that these teeth were very white, very strong and also very sharp.

"I only tried to…" Feronil began, but an angry growl from Erestor silenced him immediately.

"You only tried to meddle in my affairs, and I do not appreciate this. What I did, do or will do is none of your concern. Go to Osgiliath or stay here, I do not care, but do not touch upon things which are none of your business."

"Erestor."

Elrond's calm voice broke the spell. With a confused expression on his face, Erestor let go of Feronil and shook his head.

"I am most sorry, Master Feronil. I – I do not know what came over me, please forgive my outburst. It shall not happen again."

Erestor had fled the place and run into the woods, not turning or answering to either Glorfindel's or Elrond's calls. He had stayed away all day long, and only when night had come had he sneaked back into their bedchamber and under the blankets, snuggling up to Glorfindel without saying a word. The warrior did what seemed best: he did not speak, only hugged his husband close.

For a long time they lay like this, wide awake, and the only sounds to be heard were the chirping of the cicadas outside and the occasional gurgle from Estorel, who slept peacefully in his crib and probably dreamt of chasing butterflies.

"Fin, there is something I need to tell you." Erestor finally broke the silence, and Glorfindel squeezed his shoulder lovingly.

"Whatever it is, I will listen."

"You will not like it, Fin, and you will be upset because I never told you, while so many others know the story already."

"Ah, so you finally confess about your secret lover then," Glorfindel quipped, trying to lighten up the situation, but as a matter of fact, he was afraid of the confession to come. He knew Erestor well enough to understand that this was a big, important secret his husband was about to share, and he had a feeling that it would not be one he found delightful.

"Yes, Fin. This is what I am about to do."

Had Erestor just confessed that he was actually the son of Sauron, Glorfindel could not have been more flabbergasted.

"What?" he croaked, "Are you trying to tell me that you have been unfaithful? But – why? And who? And…"

"Shhh," Erestor interrupted his confused husband, putting a finger on the warrior's lips. "This happened before I knew you – it happened before you had even returned from the Halls of Waiting."

Glorfindel let out a breath of relief.

"Do not scare me so, beloved. For a moment, I really feared you would confess to me that you had your wicked way with Elrond in the library."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Erestor had to stifle a grin.

"What is it with you and your irrational jealousy of Elrond?" he asked, stroking Glorfindel's jaw gently with his fingers.

"He is very fair. And you are of the same spirit. You have a lot in common."

"Indeed. We have. Elrond and I share an insane obsession for old battered warriors with rude manners and a questionable handling of the truth. The Valar know why both of us have fallen for obnoxious tellers of hackneyed stories like you and Gil-galad. But do not fear, beloved," he added as he gently kissed Glorfindel, "my heart is yours alone, and nothing and nobody could ever change this."

"I am glad to hear this, my dear. And now go ahead with your tale."

Erestor took a deep breath, then he began to tell what had happened, many centuries ago, close to the city of Osgiliath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel learns that he does not know as much about Erestor as he thought. And Erestor finally confronts a part of his past he tried to forget..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya
> 
> Happiness is... if you read through your chapter before you send it off to your beta and can correct the words "poodle" to "puddle" and save yourself from great embarrassment.
> 
> Beta’s notes: Ahahahaha! Shame - I’d have enjoyed that one immensely.

Rain, rain, rain, and even more rain. Erestor already felt like a drowned rat, soaked to his undergarments. The storm howled, the wetness chilled his skin, and he was hungry. "Foul" would not have been the appropriate term to describe his mood. Harvest Celebration in Gondor - most delightful.

He cast a quick glance at his three guards, who all had their hoods pulled down over their faces, and from the muttered Elvish curses he could tell that they were as pleased about this little excursion as he. A long, hard journey lay behind them, and now they could not cross the river as it had swelled, fed by weeks of rain, torn the bridges down, flooded the lower parts of the city and made every passage impossible. Resigned, Erestor and his guards had tried to find lodgings in the city, but many other travellers had been trapped by nature's forces as well, and so their search had been without luck. Finally, in the last tavern, the inn-keeper had given them directions to a small farm on the outskirts of Osgiliath. Though it was not a tavern, the owner obviously rented rooms to travellers.

"Simple but clean," the inn-keeper had explained, and this was all Erestor needed. He did not ask for luxury or soft linen sheets, all he wished for was a fire to dry his clothing and a bowl of broth. "Tell Mistress Rhian that I sent you, she knows me."

Erestor already began to fear that they might have gotten lost in the storm, when he heard Teldor, the captain of the guards, calling out to him.

"Master Erestor – I think this is the house the man spoke of!"

He pointed towards a small stone house, surrounded by fences, trees and a garden. There was smoke curling out of the chimney, and a dim glow could be seen in the window. At least the family seemed to be home.

"Indeed – let us hurry, the horses are tired, and I would not mind getting out of this storm either," Erestor replied, and the four Elves urged their horses on. A short while later, they arrived and dismounted, and Erestor knocked on the door. He heard footsteps inside, then the bolt was drawn back, and the door opened a little.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" a female voice asked, and Erestor bowed his head.

"We are travellers and have come a long way, my lady. The inn-keeper of the Dancing Jug gave us directions to your house. He said you might have room for us to stay a few days."

The door closed, and for a moment Erestor feared that the woman would let them stand out in the cold, but then the door opened wide, and Erestor could see a small, but comfortable living room with a fire in the hearth. A small child, probably not older than two years, was sitting on a rug in front of it, chewing on a toy rabbit.

"Please, enter, my lords. You are welcome to stay, but I only have two chambers, if this will do?"

Erestor sighed with relief.

"This is perfect, my lady. We do not require much apart from shelter from the rain and cold and a bowl of hot soup."

She laughed, and Erestor noticed the small wrinkles around her eyes. She seemed to laugh often, and he returned the smile.

The Elves entered the house, their wet cloaks soon leaving small puddles on the floor.

"Please, my lords, shed your cloaks and leave them here, I will hang them up to dry. Arhed! Go and tend to the lords’ horses, make sure they are rubbed down and fed!"

The young man who appeared behind her nodded, and immediately slipped a cloak around his shoulders. He lit a lantern and left the house. Erestor could hear him outside, yelling for the assistance of other servants.

"Sit down, sit down," the woman urged, collecting up the wet cloaks. She stopped a moment to stare when she realized that the unexpected visitors were Elves, but then she hurried to hang the cloaks in the kitchen to dry and went to fetch some blankets for the soaked travel party.

There were not enough chairs to go round, but soon enough, all sat in front of the fireplace, snuggled in warm blankets and greedily swallowing a hot, spicy soup. The child, a little boy, gazed up in fascination at the Elves, and giggled when Salin, who only recently had become the father of a boy Elfling, pulled faces at him.

"It is amazing how the presence of a child can turn the most hardened warrior into a complete fool," Farlin, the youngest of the Elves, snickered. "I wish you could handle the bow as skilfully as you handle nappies, Salin, then we would not embarrass ourselves again in the next competition!"

"Look who is talking," Salin growled, "if you had had your attention on the target, not on the pretty maids who watched you, the Galadhrim would not have won the tournament."

Farlin sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What can I do? They were just too pretty to ignore."

"I would not be surprised if Orophin had paid them just to stand close by and distract you from the contest," Taldor grinned, "it would not be the first time."

"Ah, this is not true," Salin said, shaking his head, "the one paying the maidens at the Mirkwood contest was Rúmil. Orophin was the one who growled at Farlin when he tried to court his pretty little brother."

"Oh do not remind me of Haldir!" Farlin groaned, "Fair he is and good company, but we could not take a single step without Orophin hovering over us like a vulture! I swear, that poor Elf will die a virgin, and it is all thanks to his brother!"

"Do you think they feed Orophin raw meat for breakfast?" Teldor threw in, and they all giggled, save Erestor, who had not joined in the conversation so far.

"Do not speak in such a way about the guardian. He is a loyal servant of the Lord and the Lady of the Golden Wood, and while his antics might be a little – archaic at times, he deserves our respect."

"My apologies, Master Erestor. I did not want to be disrespectful. I am sure that they cook the meat." The Elves grinned, then returned their attention to the soup.

The woman had picked up the child in the meantime, and now sat in a rocking chair, listening to the conversation of her guests. Of course she did not understand a word, but she thought this was a beautiful language, melodious, like a song. The boy seemed to think so, too, for he had fallen asleep during the conversation, and was now snuggled in his mother's arms, happily sucking on his thumb.

Erestor, realizing that they were not very polite towards their host, looked at her and bowed his head.

"My apologies, my lady. My friends do not speak the common tongue; they do not intend to be rude."

She smiled and shook her head. Her hair was dark, with a reddish shimmer from the fire, and her eyes were soft and brown. By Elven standards, she was not very fair, but among mortals, this might be different. Erestor noticed that she had very delicate ankles and wrists, unexpected on a farmer's wife.

"Do not worry, Master Elf, it is a pleasure to listen to you speak. Your language is very beautiful."

Erestor thanked her, and wished he could return the compliment. Alas, of all languages, save possibly Dwarvish, he thought the common tongue to be the most horrid, resembling the symptoms of a throat infection more than anything else, but politeness kept him from making any disparaging remarks.

"I am Master Erestor of Imladris, my lady, advisor to Lord Elrond. And these warriors here are Salin, Teldor and Farlin, my guards. We were invited to join the Harvest Celebrations, but the floods prevented us from crossing the river. So we are most grateful that you offered us shelter."

She settled the child a little more comfortably in her arms. He was tall for his age, and became heavy after she had held him for a while.

"Do not worry about the weather. The water rises, the bridges are torn down, and one half of the city's cut off from the other. We have grown used to it over the years, it happens almost every year. Just give it a few days, and things will be back to normal. The storms never last long, and the ground was in dire need of water. I was beginning to fear it would never rain."

"I trust that you are right, my lady. So we shall wait it out then. Is your husband in as well, so that we may greet him properly?"

"My husband is gone," she replied briskly, and Erestor blushed.

"My apologies. I did not know of your loss."

"Loss? What loss?"

Erestor was confused by the puzzled expression on her face, and he put the bowl down on the ground.

"The loss of your husband."

A moment of silence, then she burst out in laughter, which woke up the child and seemed highly inappropriate in Erestor's eyes. The loss of a life partner, one’s soul mate, certainly should not trigger merriment!

"Please forgive my laughter, Master Erestor. My husband didn't die. He ran off with a woman from Minas Tirith a couple of months after the little one here was born. He got tired of his son's nightly screaming, you know. Good riddance, I say, and he was certainly no loss!"

Seeing the confusion on the Elf's face, she thought that Elves probably did not leave their wives and run away to amuse themselves with tavern dancers, and she added: "I suppose Elves wouldn't cheat on their wives?"

Erestor opened his mouth to say that no, indeed, Elves would never do such a thing, but then he thought of Feronil, Lord Celeborn and some other fine specimens of male Elven faithfulness, and decided not to pursue the matter.

"It does happen, but rarely," he murmured, and returned his attention to the soup.

"But you live so long – don't you get tired of each other?"

"I suppose not," Erestor answered hesitatingly, "but I am not married, so I cannot tell."

"Oh. Never met the right girl then? Don't worry, you're young, there's still time."

Erestor, who could look back on more than four thousand begetting days, thought about pointing out his age, but at the end of the day, it was not of importance.

"I am sorry if my question reminded you of your pain," Erestor said instead, and she shrugged.

"Life goes on – would it change anything if I sat here and dwelt in misery? I only have one life to live, and I decided to enjoy it. The only time I really miss the rascal is in March."

"Why in March? Did you get married that month?"

She laughed again.

"Oh no, but in March, we harvest the potatoes, which is hard work. I have some help here, but that's when I notice his absence the most. But what can I do? We need to eat, so I have to work."

Erestor tried to imagine any of the noble Elven ladies in Imladris kneeling in a field, digging out potatoes, but the picture was too bizarre.

"Here I sit, boring you with idle talk about farm work," Rhian said, "please forgive me, I don't get to see many people out here, so I'm afraid that I get too talkative when I have visitors."

"No, please, do not worry, Mistress Rhian. I am no stranger to work, though you might think all an advisor does is shuffle scrolls. My father used to be a carpenter, and we had a small field behind the house."

"Now that's the first time I’ve heard such a thing. When we see Elves, they always seem to be noble lords and ladies, not farmers or handymen! Give my regards to your father then, from one farmer to the other."

"You are too kind, my lady, but unfortunately, my father is no longer alive. I lost my family in the fall of Gondolin. It was a long time ago, so do not concern yourself."

"So you have no family and no spouse. But certainly you have many friends?"

Erestor, a little taken aback by this question, could not answer right away. Did he have friends? Yes, Lord Elrond was certainly a friend, but he was also the lord of Imladris, so Erestor kept a formal distance. Then there was - well. To his great surprise, Erestor realized that he was not able to name even one single friend.

He had hesitated long enough for the woman to understand. She realized that her innocent question had touched a sore spot, and got up very quickly.

"I will put the little one to bed now, my lords. Please stay here by the fire until you are dry and warm again, and I will prepare your beds. If there is anything you need, just yell."

She carried the child upstairs. Erestor followed her with his eyes, and he suddenly realized how tired he was.

"What did the woman ask?" Salin had followed the conversation with interest, and now he was a little concerned about the closed expression on Erestor's face. He had not understood a single word, but he recognized the sadness in Erestor's eyes.

"It is getting late. We should finish our meal and get ready for bed, it has been a long, hard journey," Erestor said, ignoring the question. The guards quickly emptied their bowls, just in time for Rhian to appear at the top of the stairs, calling them. She showed the Elves to their rooms and they all bowed their heads to thank her.

She gave Erestor one last thoughtful look when he was about to close the door behind him, and she wondered what could possibly be the benefit of being immortal if you had nobody to share eternity with.

Rhian shivered, but it was not because of the cold night air.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel learns that he does not know as much about Erestor as he thought. And Erestor finally confronts a part of his past he tried to forget...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

"I did not know you were that lonely," Glorfindel whispered, and hugged Erestor a little closer. The advisor shrugged. "Up to that point, I had never considered myself lonely. Alone, yes. But willingly so. I have never been one to seek the company of many. Some consider sitting in a corner, reading a book, a sign of loneliness. But I always found that it was I who could keep myself the best company. It is true, though, that I had no friends, no close confidants. I do not think I really missed them."

Glorfindel shook his head.

"Erestor, this is not something an Elf should ever say. We are born to be merry, to gather and share our laughter and love."

"Rabbit, however, spent millennia on his own."

"Rabbit is a Plains Elf."

"So am I."

"No, you are the thorn in my side. And now continue your tale, beloved; I am still waiting for the shocking revelation."

Erestor kissed Glorfindel's jaw, then he nodded.

"Very well then. For the following two days..."

* * *

For the following two days the downpour continued. Outside, the water was high, inside, the spirits were low. The heavy rain had not kept various neighbours and friends of Rhian from visiting the farm. One asked for a sack of flour, another desperately needed a pair of scissors. They brought wives and children. And all stood in the living room and stared at the Elves. Erestor felt like a rare animal in a travelling show. 'I guess I should be grateful they do not try to feed me dry bread or peanuts', he thought, and held himself as straight and proud as possible, disapproval radiating from him like heat from an oven.

Erestor, who valued his solitude above anything, suffered greatly under the forced closeness with these strangers. He also became weary of his guards. When their discussion once more turned to the advantages of eagle over hawk feathers for arrows, the advisor fled the place. He grabbed his cloak and slipped out of the door.

Erestor took a deep breath of the cold evening air. What a relief! He sat down on a small bench outside of the house, sheltered from the rain by the eaves, and tried to ignore the muffled voices of the three Elves in the living room. How far away was his home - at this time of the day, everybody would be gathered in the Great Hall, listening to tales or the singing of a minstrel. There would be laughter and merriment. Erestor began to miss Imladris - until he remembered that he never joined in the singing, and that jokes were never told to him. He would sit in his chair, a dark spot in an otherwise colourful picture. Once in a while, Elrond would politely address him, and Erestor would nod and answer, as was expected of him.

The door opened, and Rhian appeared, wrapped in a thick cloak and carrying a heavy bucket. Erestor got up and stepped aside so she would not bump into him or spill the odd smelling contents of the bucket over his boots.

"My lady - you should not go out in weather like this."

She put the bucket down and closed the door, then she looked up at him. Erestor was tall, even for an Elf, and she had to crane her neck to see his face.

"The pigs need to be fed come rain, come sunshine, Master Erestor."

"Then let me at least carry this bucket for you."

Erestor had no idea why he had offered his help. He loathed pigs and had had no intention of wading through the mud in the pouring rain.

"Thank you," she simply said, and led the way, holding up a lantern. Erestor had no choice but to grab the bucket and follow her. By the time they reached the pigsty, he was soaked to the skin, and he rushed inside as soon as Rhian opened the door. It was warm, and Erestor sniffed. He had expected stench, but there was only the comfortable smell of straw and animal. Three pigs were dozing lazily, but when they heard their mistress, they became lively and rushed towards the trough. Rhian filled it with the swill Erestor had brought, and the animals began to eat greedily.

"Come here pets, here's your dinner. Pig, here, here, come, and you, pig, don't push your brother, there's enough for all of you."

Erestor watched the scene, and oddly enough, his grumpy mood dissipated. There was something comforting about the sty, the animals, and, yes, also about the woman. Her life must be hard compared to his, but yet, she seemed to be happy. Elrond had never asked him to feed pigs or wipe the snotty nose of a child. He had entrusted him with serious deeds, confided in him, and loaded great responsibilities on Erestor's shoulders. The advisor honoured and appreciated this trust - but it had not made him happy.

"They are still young," Rhian said, lovingly patting one of the pigs on his snout. "And they are very friendly as well. Pigs can be moody, you know. This one here is grumpy in the morning, and that one gets nervous when I don't talk to him for a couple of minutes a day. I’ve grown quite fond of them - I'm afraid once the time comes, I will not have the heart to see them slaughtered."

She laughed, and Erestor had to smile as well.

"Lord Elrond will be amazed by the wealth of knowledge regarding pigs I have acquired on my travels," he said.

"What is he like? Lord Elrond, I mean."

Erestor was a little surprised by this question, and took time to think of a suitable answer.

"He is wise, kind and noble. A star among our people."

Rhian upended the bucket again and shook it to empty out the last bit of swill, then she shrugged.

"I find it scary, you know," she said, "that he's still alive, and probably still looks the same as he always did, while his brother has been dead so many centuries."

"Scary?" Erestor arched an eyebrow. "It was Elros' free choice, he wished to be counted among men."

She turned around, the bucket still in her hand, and looked at Erestor, raising her eyebrows in turn.

"You are many millennia old, I suppose, yet you look my age. When I am dead and my son is an old man, you will still look the same, your face as fair as today, and nothing will have changed. This is scary, yes. Imagine yourself in my place, Master Erestor."

Erestor, even with the best of wills, could not imagine how it was to be a mortal farmer, so he kept quiet and resorted to frowning. Rhian took the lantern, and they left the sty to return to the small house. The rain had eased off a little in the meantime. Erestor, whose nature, in different circumstances, would have led him to brood about mortality and eternity, instead found his thoughts going in circles over a rather trivial thing: that she had called him fair.

* * *

The next morning, the rain had ceased, and the first shy sunbeams peeked through the clouds. Taldor and Farlin used the improved weather for a bath in the fountain beside the garden. Rhian, who was on her way to hang out some washing, stopped dead in her tracks and almost dropped her basket of laundry at the sight of them.

The two Elves were naked, and the taller one was washing his friend’s long, dark hair. They seemed totally oblivious to any onlookers, and Rhian decided that this was too lovely a sight to miss. What beautiful creatures they were! Their bodies were perfect and they moved with an elegance and grace she had never seen in a man. Now the younger one reached up and tugged on one of his friend's braids, and the tall warrior bent down. Rhian didn't know what amazed her more: that the two male Elves kissed, or that she was graced with a view of a perfect, pert backside.

Taldor and Farlin now realized they were not alone, and Farlin turned around, giving her a friendly wave. Rhian waved back, trying hard to keep her gaze at least level with the Elf’s chest. If her neighbours knew that she not only had Elves in her house, but naked ones at that, half of Osgiliath would turn up on her doorstep, and it was embarrassing enough as it was.

Rhian was distracted from her musings by loud voices and the excited chatter of children. She turned around and saw Erestor, cornered by her uncle, his wife and their two little girls. While the Elf obviously answered their curious questions politely, it was also clear that he felt uncomfortable. Their eyes met, and Rhian walked over to her visitors, forgetting all about the washing.

"Uncle! How good to see you! How's it going? Did the storm cause any damage?"

Erestor let out a sigh of relief when Rhian's cheerful voice interrupted the elderly man’s flood of words. He did not wish to be impolite to his host’s relatives, but the staring of the children and the questions of the man had become very annoying.

Rhian winked at him, and shooed her uncle, aunt and cousins inside of the cottage, where the two little girls immediately attached themselves to Sarin. The Elf sat on the hearth rug with Rhian's son, making a tower with the little one’s building blocks. The little boy smashed down the tower, giggling loudly, and Sarin rebuilt it. Neither he nor the boy seemed to weary of this game.

Erestor, having reached the limit of his tolerance for children and mortals, turned on his heel and headed for the fields.

* * *

Rhian's uncle and aunt left before sunset. Taldor and Farlin retired soon after, feigning great tiredness, and Rhian suspected that they would continue what they had started during their bath in the morning. Sarin, feeling awkward in the presence of the taciturn advisor, made his farewells and took himself off to their chamber soon after, and so Erestor was alone with Rhian. The two sat in silence, the Elf writing down the happenings of the day in his diary, the woman sewing.

After a while, Rhian got up to put more logs on the fire. Once she was satisfied with the blaze, she walked over to Erestor's table and sat down beside the Elf, who glanced up, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.

"I'm sorry, Master Erestor. I feel I should apologize for my neighbours and family. They are good people, just very curious. Our lives are very plain, your presence here has caused quite a stir."

Erestor clenched his jaw. He was grateful for her help, but also upset about the open curiosity and rude staring he had experienced during the last few days.

"My lady, there is no need for you to apologize. I simply fail to see what could possibly be so exciting about three warriors and an advisor."

"There's nothing interesting about warriors and advisors, but about four Elves. We don't see such fair folk around here too often."

There it was again, the unsettling word, and this time, Erestor did not ignore the remark.

"My lady, I can assure you that, among our own people, none of us is considered to be of unusual beauty."

"This might be, but you are not among your own people right now. Master Erestor - do you consider me fair?"

Erestor opened his mouth to tell a courteous lie, but one look into the woman's eyes made it clear that he would not get away with any sweet talk, so he lowered his gaze and murmured: "You are not unfair, my lady, but not fair by the standards of my people, either."

She didn't seem to take offense, but took his hands instead.

"Thank you for being honest. Don't fear that you hurt me, I know that we must look rather unattractive in your eyes. I'm considered fairly good looking. But I've borne two children, worked all my life on the fields and known great sorrow. All these things have left their marks on my body. And I'm proud of these marks, just like a warrior who is proud of a scar he received in a battle. I'm not ashamed of who I am. And you shouldn't be ashamed, either. Last time I looked, being fair was not an offense."

For a brief moment, Erestor had an odd feeling of being younger than she was, but he shook it off. He looked up, and there was a smile in her eyes.

"So you consider me fair then, my lady?" he asked jokingly, partly from a wish to get over this awkward moment and partly out of curiosity. She studied him, then she nodded.

"Your nose is a little too long. And you should smile more often. But yes, you are very fair."

Erestor looked down at the hands that still held his. They were small but strong, rough and red from the work, and there was a burn on one of her palms. It must have happened in the morning, while she cooked breakfast. The delicate wrists made an odd contrast, they were more fitting for a noble lady. The Elf realized that he was drawing gentle circles on her wrists with his thumbs, and immediately let go of her hands.

Rhian nodded, then she got up. She put needle and thread back in a small basked and plumped up the cushions in the rocking chair. Finally, she lit a candle and looked at Erestor.

"I'm going to bed now," she announced, and began to climb the stairs. Halfway, she stopped, and turned around to Erestor, who had not continued writing in his diary, but followed each of her movements with his eyes.

"Would you like to join me?"

The Elf looked at her, then down at his diary, and finally out of the window. He could see the sty from where he sat.

Erestor put his diary in his bag, then he followed Rhian up the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel learns that he does not know as much about Erestor as he thought. And Erestor finally confronts a part of his past he tried to forget...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

"I suppose my hope that you followed her to her chamber only to read her a bedtime story is in vain?"

Erestor breathed a sigh of relief. A sarcastic Glorfindel was better than an angry or hurt one, and he had secretly feared his husband might be upset by his tale. Glorfindel, who noticed the sigh, chuckled.

"Erestor. Beloved. My precious dark jewel. Did you really expect me to flee our bed over something which happened before we even met?"

"So you do not mind?" the advisor asked, looking up at his husband with hopeful eyes.

Glorfindel shrugged, then he scratched his chin.

"I would not put it quite like that. Of course I mind. I regret every moment of my life that I did not spend with you, and the thought that you have lain with others does not exactly cheer me up. It is something I would rather not know about in detail, as I am sure you understand. But you did nothing wrong."

Erestor smiled, and kissed Glorfindel.

"It is amazing how you still manage to surprise me, Fin."

The warrior rolled his eyes, then he gave Erestor a sidewise glance.

"Was it good?"

"What?"

"Well - it."

Erestor frowned.

"I thought you did not want to know the details?"

Glorfindel looked a little guilty.

"Please forgive me, I cannot help being curious. I have never known any mortals that intimately."

"Curiosity killed the Balrog-slayer. But very well. When I woke up the next morning…"

* * *  
When Erestor woke up the next morning, it took him one moment to remember where he was, and two to remember what had happened the previous night. The Elf sat up, pushed the curtains aside and peeked out of the window. It must have been very early, the day was only a grey shimmer on the horizon, but Rhian had already left. Erestor supposed that she had to feed and tend to the animals, and in fact, he could see the faint glow of a lantern in the sty.

How did he feel? Erestor sank back into the soft mattress, folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, considering this question. He enjoyed the silence here – in the Last Homely House, there was always some kind of noise, even in the deepest hours of the night. Imladris itself seemed to be alive at times, and it never slept. This small cottage, however, was silent. All Erestor could hear was his own breathing and the first faint whistle of a morning bird.

Erestor decided he felt great. He had missed being touched, being close to somebody. He just had not realised how much. It was not that the previous night had been an unforgettable explosion of passion, not at all. Their love-making had been slow, loving, simple and respectful. Though Erestor's lovers had been few and far between, he considered himself no beginner in the art of love; even one as shy as he had acquired some skills over the centuries.

But this encounter, unlike the previous ones, had not left him unsatisfied. It was not so much the comfortable tiredness of the body after a night of love, but a satisfaction of the mind. Something had been missing in Erestor's life, and now it was not missing anymore. Erestor could not have named it, the closest description he could come up with was that the invisible curtain which had separated him from the company of others had been lifted. He felt more alive than before. How could this be? It had been nothing but an encounter of two lonely souls. Could this really make such a difference?

Erestor got up, stretched and splashed water from the wash basin on his face. It was fresh – Rhian must have brought it in before she left. How come he had not noticed her departure? He combed his hair, not bothering to braid it, and slipped into his clothes. His guards were still sleeping, he could hear Taldor and Farlin shift in their bed. Erestor, whose hearing was far better than Rhian's, had been an involuntary witness to their nightly activities, and he suspected they would be rather exhausted today.

The Elf walked down the stairs with light steps, and if it hadn't been so early, he would probably have whistled. When he opened the front door, cold morning air greeted him, and he welcomed it, taking a deep breath. He paused a moment to take in the sight of the fields, unreal looking under the mist, then he crossed the yard and entered the sty.

Rhian looked up from her basket when he entered. She was kneeling on the ground, collecting eggs for breakfast. The hens eyed him suspiciously, but then seemed to decide he meant no harm and went about their business, scratching in the ground.

"Good morning," she said, and smiled at him.

"It is," Erestor replied, returning the smile. This was a little awkward. How to address her? "My love" or "beloved" did not seem suitable, and calling her by her name only was too cold. He stepped closer and came to stand behind her, peeking over her shoulder.

"Are you collecting eggs?" he asked, though it was obvious what she was doing.

Rhian nodded.

"Yes. We will have pancakes for breakfast."

"Ah."

Rhian put the last egg in the basket, then she got up and wiped her hands on her skirt. Before Erestor could make another attempt at conversation, she turned and put her arms around his neck.

"You know, you could help me in the kitchen."

Erestor put his arms around her waist, and risked a smile.

"I do not know if I will be a big help, my dear," he said, and he could see in her eyes that he had addressed her the right way. "I am afraid that I lack the skills for this."

She kissed him on the nose, a quick, friendly kiss, and laughed.

"You said the same thing yesterday."

Erestor blushed, and he was very grateful when she kissed him again. This time he returned the kiss, enjoying the gentle teasing of her tongue and the warmth of the soft body pressed to his. Rhian let herself fall back into the hay, pulling him down with her.

"I hope I have not given reason for complaints or lacked consideration," Erestor said, and nibbled on her ear. An Elf would have writhed by now, but obviously mortal ears were less sensitive. Indeed – the things he learned on this journey were most fascinating.

Rhian shook her head.

"If you are only half as skilled in making pancakes, you could work as a cook for our king."

Again Erestor's cheeks flushed, and he cursed himself for it. Blushing was for maidens and Elflings, not for a warrior and advisor!

Rhian ran her hand through his hair and gently caressed his ear.

"These pointed ears are very beautiful, you know. I suppose they are not special to you, but my people are really fond of these tips."

Now it was Erestor's turn to laugh.

"I will tell Lord Elrond that our folk should braid their hair in a manner which will leave the ears visible in future. If your words are true, this could improve relations between Imladris and Gondor significantly!"

They both laughed, then they kissed again, gently at first, then more eagerly. Rhian took Erestor's face between her hands.

"I want you. Pointed ears and all. Now. Here."

Erestor's eyes got wide.

"You want us to … here? In a sty? With the pigs watching?"

She nodded.

"You are a great warrior and advisor, I'm sure you'll manage. And the pigs won't tell anybody."

"The pigs of Gondor are obviously more discreet than the pigs in Imladris then."

Erestor caressed her cheeks, then he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"You were very loving with me when we did this last night," he said, surprised that the words did not sound half as silly as he had feared.

Rhian looked at him, very serious all of a sudden.

"You deserve to be treated lovingly."

Erestor sighed.

"You know that I cannot stay here, do you not? Once the Harvest Celebrations are over, we shall return to Imladris."

Rhian ran her finger down his jaw.

"I know. I don't expect you to settle down here and become a farmer. But we should put the time that remains to good use."

And so they did - much to Erestor's delight and the pigs' confusion.

* * *  
Usually, Rhian loved working in the fields. She liked being so close to nature, enjoyed the scent of the earth and the feeling of the ground under her bare feet.

But she really hated potatoes. The dry, dusty earth on her fingers drove her crazy, she hated the feeling and wiped her hands repeatedly on her skirt. Her back ached, and she felt a headache coming on. Her son was playing next to her, and from where she stood, she could oversee the farmhands. She had hired some men to help with the harvest, and cursed her husband for leaving her with all the work. What she had told the Elf last year was true – ‘taters harvest was the only time she missed the cheating bastard.

Rhian wiped the sweat from her forehead. Ah, Erestor. Whenever her life seemed too hard or worries were about to overwhelm her, she would find strength and joy in the memory of his beautiful face, but even more so, his gentle being. She doubted that he had any idea how precious he had been to her. And it was probably better this way. Who knew – maybe he had met a nice Elven lady by now, and was reading poetry to her under a starlit sky? This was probably what Elves did when they courted the lady of their hearts.

Rhian had to grin. Maybe this was custom among Elves, but she simply couldn't imagine stern, serious Erestor courting anybody. Maybe that was the reason he had not found a wife yet? Was he too stern for an Elf? Or were they all blind?

'Stop mooning over the Elf, you silly woman', she chided herself. 'There is a lot of work to do, and you knew right from the beginning that he wasn't here to stay.'

With a sigh, Rhian bent down again, pulling on a potato plant with more force than needed.

"Why do you not take a rest? Drink some water and play with your son, I will take care of this."

She started up and spun around.

"Erestor?" she gasped, and the Elf laughed.

"I am glad to see that you still remember me."

He looked very tired, and very dirty. He was clad in simple black garb, his long black hair firmly held out of his face by a single braid. She could see that a long, hard journey lay behind him, but his eyes were smiling, and she flung herself into his arms.

The hands stroking his face over and over again were rough and dirty, the fingers leaving smudges of dirt on his skin, and the kiss they shared was salty from her sweat.

But Erestor felt that he had never tasted anything sweeter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel learns that he does not know as much about Erestor as he thought. And Erestor finally confronts a part of his past he tried to forget...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

Glorfindel rubbed his eyes.

"Is everything fine with you, Fin? You look pale."

Glorfindel eyed his husband tiredly.

"Erestor, it can drain an Elf of his colour when he hears that his husband rode all the way from Imladris to Osgiliath, without guards, through snow and storm, to help with the potato harvest!"

Erestor tried to look guilty, but he failed.

"It was not for the potato harvest alone, Fin. I also got to milk the cows."

The headache which had until then been a dull throbbing in the back of Glorfindel's head now became a sharp pain in his forehead, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Let me sum this up: Lord Elrond's advisor milked cows, picked potatoes and fed the pigs."

"Indeed, and I enjoyed it. Nobody was scared to talk to me or expected me to give wise counsel. After a few years, the novelty of an Elf among mortals wore off, and I was just one of them."

Glorfindel sat bolt upright.

"After a few years? Are you trying to tell me that you undertook this insane journey more than once?"

"Of course. All in all, seven times."

"Why, Erestor? Why did you risk your life? I can understand that you felt lonely and grew attached to that woman, but..."

"Rhian. 'That woman' had a name, and it was 'Rhian', Glorfindel," Erestor interrupted him, and his tone made it clear that Glorfindel had better remembered it.

"Fine then," the warrior grumbled, "Rhian. But certainly you could have found friends here, among your own people, Erestor. There was no need to put yourself in danger so often. Did Elrond not object? It is not like him at all to allow such a mad undertaking."

Erestor smiled, a little smugly, Glorfindel thought, and shrugged.

"Ah, Elrond… you see, I was never one to ask if I needed something..."

* * *

Erestor was not one to ask if he needed something. One had to guess or, if it was an urgent matter, the advisor begged, but never had Elrond known Erestor to demand anything. Needless to say, the Elf lord had been very curious when Erestor had informed him in February that he would need three months of leave. Elrond had granted this immediately, as there was no urgent business and the advisor more than deserved a break.

But still - Elrond would have died to know where Erestor intended to go. He had packed his horse for a long journey and refused to tell anybody where he was going. Elrond knew that Erestor had no family left, they had all died during the fall of Gondolin. He hadn’t heard of any friends the advisor might have. So where was Erestor off to?

Elrond had watched the advisor’s departure from the balcony of his chamber, and when he saw the lean, dark figure on horseback disappear into the forest surrounding Rivendell, he came to the conclusion that maybe Erestor simply wanted to think about his life.

When Erestor announced the following year that he would be away for the months of February, March and April, Rivendell was buzzing with gossip and speculation. Some spoke of secret dealings Erestor had with the Dwarves; others pretended to know that Erestor had taken a lover in Lothlórien. This, however, was not believed by most, for the words 'romance' and 'Erestor' simply sounded wrong together. It was common knowledge that the advisor loved only his books and scrolls. Elrond, feeling that any questions on his part would remain unanswered, held his tongue, but the uncertainty over Erestor's doings was gnawing at him.

In the year of Erestor's fifth ‘holiday’, Elrond's patience and discretion had reached their end, and when Erestor announced that he would be away from February to April, Elrond said: "Erestor - it is none of my business, and you do not have to tell me if you do not want to, but I am worried that you might be in trouble. You are not only my advisor. You are also my dear friend, and it saddens me that you do not trust me with your secret."

Appealing to Erestor's friendship and playing the guilt-card was, of course, a low move on his part, and Elrond knew it. But if he let Erestor leave again without an explanation, curiosity would certainly kill him.

Erestor, hands clasped behind his back, arched an eyebrow, and for a moment, Elrond thought to have spotted mischief in his eyes.

"My lord Elrond, it is about the potato harvest in Osgiliath."

"The – potato harvest?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You leave Imladris for three months every year because of the potato harvest in Osgiliath?"

"Indeed, my lord."

Elrond stood now in front of Erestor, and gave the advisor a stern look.

"Are you mocking me, Master Erestor?"

Erestor bowed his head.

"I would never dream of doing such a thing, my lord."

Elrond sighed.

"Very well then. You are free to go. I will expect you back in three months."

Erestor thanked him and departed, leaving behind a frowning Elrond.

Potatoes? Elrond rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. At least he now knew that Erestor rode to Osgiliath, otherwise he might have feared his advisor had fallen in love with a Hobbit.

* * *

Rhian was hanging up washing when Erestor arrived. He dismounted and ran across the yard to sweep her off her feet and swing her around. The woman laughed.

"There you are! I was beginning to fear you might not come this year," she said, stroking his face lovingly. There was an angry welt on his cheek, and she frowned.

"Did you have trouble on your way here?"

Erestor decided not to mention his run-in with some Orcs only two days’ journey from Osgiliath, as he did not want to ruin these precious first moments.

"It was nothing, my dear. Do I get a proper welcome now?"

She laughed again, then slung her arms around his neck, drew his head down and kissed him. Erestor sighed, returning the longed-for kiss with enthusiasm and hugging her tight.

"I have missed you," he whispered.

"I have missed you, too. There is much to tell. Many things have changed here."

Erestor was about to ask what these things were when an odd noise distracted him, making him look around. It sounded like the mewling of a young cat, and when he saw something move in the laundry basket, he knelt down to remove the animal that must have sneaked in with the washing.

Alas, when he pushed the cover aside, he was greeted by the sight of a shock of dark brown hair, two gentle brown eyes and, unmistakably, a pair of tiny, pointed ears. Erestor leapt up and backed away, staring at Rhian and the basket in utter shock.

"What ... what is this?" he stuttered, and pointed at the basket.

Rhian rubbed her chin.

"I don't know what you call the wee ones where you come from, but here we call them 'babies'."

"I know what a baby is," Erestor howled, raking his hair with his hands, "but where did this baby come from?"

"Erestor - I know there are differences between your folk and mine, but I imagine babies are made in much the same way all over Middle-earth."

She bent down to the basket and lifted the baby up. It was a boy, and she cuddled him close to her chest. She smiled dotingly down at the little one, who probably wasn't older than two or three months, then she turned to Erestor again.

"I'm sorry I had to surprise you like this, but I didn't know how to let you know. Nobody was willing to undertake the journey. But here he is now, and I think he turned out beautifully."

She placed the tiny baby in the arms of the completely flabbergasted advisor, smiling at him proudly.

"This is your son. He's called Erestor. Don't worry, he won't bite. It will be quite a while before he gets his first set of teeth."

Erestor stared down at the tiny bundle of new life in his arms, and shook his head. He would probably wake up any second, sighing in relief that this had all been nothing but a bad dream. Alas, the baby reached out and a tiny hand closed around one of his braids, giving it a sound pull. This hurt, making Erestor's eyes water.

"Erestor? You called him Erestor? But you cannot give him this name - I am Erestor!"

Rhian was rather confused.

"Of course you're Erestor. You're his father, so he carries your name."

"But you cannot do this!" Erestor groaned, realising in the same moment how utterly absurd it was to worry about the Elfling’s name when the Elfling himself was reason for much greater worries.

Rhian rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was a crime among your people to call children – well, boys, at least - after their fathers. Now, for a girl, I could understand the problem."

She smiled at Erestor, then stroked the baby’s cheek, while the little one gurgled happily.

"But what do you say, isn't he beautiful? And such a sweet baby he is, never cries, always smiles. He's quite advanced for his age, in every way."

Erestor feared that he might faint any moment. Baby? Father? This was an enormous thing to take in. How could this be possible? Becoming a father was a major step, one that no Elf took lightly, but only after long consideration and consultation with family and friends. And yet here he stood, holding his son, in the middle of freshly washed shirts and, he now noticed, nappies, which fluttered merrily in the breeze.

"Rhian, I do not know what to say. Why did this happen? I did not want this."

Hurt showed in the woman's face, and she took a step back.

"I'd expect that line from any man, Erestor, but not from you."

The Elf realised that he had worded his question poorly, and shook his head.

"Please do not misunderstand me - the birth of a child is a joyous event, and there is no question that I will take all responsibility for - him. But we did not agree to have a child. We did not consult your family, or decide on a suitable day for the birth. By the Valar, Rhian - we are not even married!"

Looking at the devastated Elf and hearing his stammered explanations, it dawned on Rhian that she might know even less about Elven customs than she had imagined.

"Erestor, are you trying to tell me that your people plan when to have their children? I mean - what do you do? Hold a council about it? Draw up a schedule? Invite your friends over for the procreation?"

The baby whined, and Erestor was tempted to join in. He had no idea how to hold an Elfling; he never had any dealings with children, and he feared that whatever he might do would be wrong. Maybe he was hurting the child by holding him the way he did? He nestled the baby a little closer to him, and the little one purred in contentment. He was a beautiful baby, even by Elven standards, and seemed friendly enough. Was it possible the little one knew that he was his ada?

Erestor's head spun. 'Ada!' 'Elfling!' By the Valar! What would Lord Elrond say? And everybody else? He had sired a child and not even known it, but it was all too real, as the tiny, warm body squirming in his arms confirmed.

"Parents agree to have an Elfling," he murmured absentmindedly, "then a suitable date for the birth is discussed with the healer. Having a child is important, of course you plan this."

Rhian crossed her arms over her chest. Erestor noticed that she had put on a little weight - of course, she had given birth not so long ago.

"Erestor, maybe that's how things work among your people, but here, we have no influence. It's often the case that women have a baby every other year though they'd rather not, and then there are women who'd love to have a child but never conceive. The little ones come as it pleases them, and we must accept it."

He really was a beautiful child. There was nothing mortal about his features, the ears looked fully Elven, unlike Elrond's, for example. How amazing - he, Erestor, was responsible for this wonder? He could neither pride himself on great deeds as a warrior nor had he ever stood out for any other achievements, but he had fathered a child. He had created life.

Erestor felt the urgent need to scream.

"Maybe we should get inside and discuss this over dinner," Rhian said, understanding that the Elf was absolutely confused and needed time to come to terms with this new situation.

Erestor nodded, still looking shocked, then he followed Rhian, who had picked up the basket. He clutched the child close to his chest, afraid he might drop the boy. Before Rhian entered the house, Erestor stopped.

"Did you want him?"

She turned around, giving Erestor a scrutinizing look. Then she smiled.

"Yes, I wanted him. I wanted him very much."

Again, a tiny fist pulled on Erestor's braid. The advisor looked down at his son, and he could have sworn the Elfling looked amused.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel learns that he does not know as much about Erestor as he thought. And Erestor finally confronts a part of his past he tried to forget...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

"Elfling? _You sired an Elfling_?"

It was not that Glorfindel was taken completely by surprise by this revelation. The mechanics of procreation were known to him, of course, and the thought that Erestor might have left a little peredhel in Osgiliath had crossed his mind. Thinking of something and seeing it dragged out into the open were different things, though, and the warrior was shocked.

"Well yes, I did."

"Why did you never tell me? Certainly this should have been mentioned in all the years we have spent together. Did everybody know but me?"

Erestor shook his head.

"Nobody knew, Fin. And I have never told anybody but you, now. It is possible that Elrond suspected something, but he never mentioned the subject, for which I am most grateful."

"You should have told me." Glorfindel stated. Erestor gently stroked his arm, then took his hand.

"Fin, some things are never talked about. You have never told me about your son, either. I understand how difficult it must be to talk about his death, but maybe you, of all people, can understand me?"

Glorfindel sniffled. Whenever his son was mentioned, he ended up in tears, that was the reason he hardly ever spoke of him. He was blessed, for his son's fëa had been reborn in Estorel and so reunited with his father, but still. He had been unfair, and he knew it, so he hugged Erestor very close and buried his face in the black hair.

"I am sorry," he murmured, "the death of a child is the most terrible thing that can happen to any being, and I can well imagine how surprised you were. And how hurtful it must have been when he eventually died. They say mortality is the gift of the Valar, but for one of our kin, loving a mortal, it must be a curse."

Erestor returned the hug, then pressed a soft kiss on his husband's lips. He wiped away Glorfindel's tears with his thumb and sighed.

"I could not agree more with you, Fin. But as for my son, things were a little different…"

* * *

Erestor had not touched the dinner Rhian had cooked, and all her attempts at conversation with him had failed. His eyes wandered often to the basket by the oven where the baby slept, and she suspected he would have looked less anxious had the basket contained an Orc.

Finally she gave up, and began to clear away the plates and mugs. When this was done, she picked up the child, and Erestor watched her feeding the baby. How odd - he had lived so many centuries, but never had he seen a mother breast-feed her child. Did Elven females do this, too? Well, of course they did. Or at least he guessed so. His experience in this field was more than limited.

Next came the nappy-changing, and Erestor wrinkled his nose in disgust. What a smell! How was it possible for such a tiny Elfling to create such a stench? Rhian did not seem to mind, though, judging from the doting expression on her face. When she was finished, she got up, holding the baby in her arms.

"It has been a long day, I'll go to bed now. Are you coming as well?"

Erestor looked down at the toes of his boots.

"Just tell me what room I shall sleep in," he murmured.

"Well, in our room, of course."

Rhian could see how confused Erestor was, so she gently laid the boy back in his basket, and sat beside the Elf, taking his hand.

"Look, I'm sorry that this came as such a shock to you. It wasn’t my intention to scare you or force you into anything. It just - happened. It's actually a miracle it didn’t happen before. But the little one hasn't changed anything about the way I feel for you."

Erestor rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, and looked up, almost shyly.

"Things have not changed between us then?"

She leant her forehead on his.

"Erestor - for five years now, you have come to see me. It is a month's journey here and a month's journey back. You ride through snow and storms, and more than once you have turned up here injured after a run-in with Orcs, Wargs or wild men. While, for my part, I haven't even looked at one of the men in the city, and trust me, there are some good looking devils among them. My older son speaks of you as his father already, and my uncle asked if you might be willing to help him with the 'taters this year as well. If you and I don't have feelings for each other, who does?"

He sighed.

"I still feel like I am dreaming."

She patted his thigh, and kissed his cheek again.

"Don't worry, Erestor. When your son screams later tonight, you will feel very much awake."

* * *

"What was it like? The birth, I mean."

Rhian snuggled closer to Erestor and snorted.

"Sixteen hours of sheer agony. But it was quicker than with the other two, and the midwife said she had never seen a more beautiful baby in all her life."

"What happened to your first child?"

For a moment, she stiffened in his arms, then she sighed.

"My oldest decided to follow his father. I haven't seen him since he left our house, but I hear he's doing well."

He hugged her, regretting having asked. "I am sorry. That must have been terrible."

"It was. But then - our children are never ours to keep. They grow up so quickly, and before you know it, they get married themselves and you're a grandparent."

Erestor, who was only slowly beginning to accept the fact that he was a father, decided that "grandfather" was a thought he did not wish to follow up right now, and shuddered.

"As soon as the child is old enough to travel, I will arrange for you to come to Imladris," the Elf said, "maybe I could ask the eagles for help."

Rhian sat up.

"Erestor - I’m grateful that you're not trying to weasel your way out of your responsibilities, but I don't want to live in Imladris."

Erestor gasped.

"But you cannot live here, my dear!"

"Why not? I've lived here all my life. You could move here, you know."

The Elf sighed. He tried to imagine being away from Imladris, living the life of a farmer. A great sadness overcame him, he would miss his home terribly, but if this was what he had to do...

"If you ask me to stay, I will. Certainly Lord Elrond will understand if I explain the situation. I could..."

Rhian interrupted him.

"And you pride yourself on being an advisor? With such poor judgement? You couldn't live here, just as I couldn't live where you come from. I'm not happy about it, but it's our nature. Your people would look down on me, whereas here, I'm respected."

"They would not. Remember, Lord Elrond is half-elven."

Rhian sighed, stroking his arm.

"He is a lord, Erestor. A lord can get away with anything, while a farmer can't. Do you really think I would be welcomed with open arms? And what would it be like for my eldest, having to leave his friends and family behind, to live in a place where he doesn't even understand the language? No, Erestor, it wouldn't work."

Erestor couldn't deny that there was some truth in her words. No, he could not imagine her living in Imladris, she would be lonely and miserable.

"What do you suggest then? To keep things the way they have always been?"

She nodded.

"Yes, Erestor. That's what I want. These last years have been very happy for me. I don't want to change this. Come next March, you will be back to see how your son has grown. We will harvest the potatoes, you can share the mead with our neighbours, and at night, we will find pleasure in each others’ arms. I'm not saying that this is a perfect life for you and me, but it's not a bad one, either."

The baby moved in his basket and mewled.

"He is hungry," Rhian stated, and tried to get up. Erestor held her back.

"No. Let me get him," he said, then he slipped out of the bed and padded across the room. The Elfling looked up at him, the brown, gentle eyes wide open, and studying him with curiosity.

"He is very fair," Erestor said after a while, and Rhian laughed.

"I'm very glad that he takes after you, Erestor, for the men in my family all went bald by the time they reached their thirties. He does have my nose, though."

Erestor lifted the boy out of his basket, held him up and studied the tiny face.

"Well, I like your nose, and I like his nose, too. Mine is, as you have so often mentioned, too long, anyway."

"You know what they say about men and their noses, Erestor."

He looked up, puzzled.

"No, I do not. What do they say?"

She arched an eyebrow, and there was a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

"Let me feed the wee one, dear, then I shall tell you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel learns that he does not know as much about Erestor as he thought. And Erestor finally confronts a part of his past he tried to forget...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Eveiya

It was a lovely sunny day, and Glorfindel had immediately agreed when Erestor invited him to come for a walk and hear the last part of the story outside. The warrior had not slept a wink the previous night, and even now, he found it difficult to process what he had learned. So there had been another beloved in Erestor's past. Why did this knowledge hurt so much? Why could he not simply be happy that there had been a time when Erestor had not been lonely?

Erestor had loved that woman. This was obvious to Glorfindel, even though Erestor had not once used the word "love". Glorfindel had always believed himself to be the only one ever to possess Erestor's heart, but he had been wrong. And not only had she owned Erestor's love, no, she had also had a child with him. Another thing Glorfindel had to share, and he was not the Elf to share easily.

They sat down on a bench in Elrond's rose garden, and Erestor began to tell the last part of his story. The longer he talked, the more Glorfindel felt that his love for Erestor was being tested.

And he feared to fail.

* * *

Erestor knew something was wrong from the moment he caught sight of the cottage. He could not tell what it was, but something had changed. When he came closer, he saw that the pigsty had gone, replaced by a stable, and he could hear the neighing of horses. Why had Rhian given up on the pigs? She had been rather fond of them, he remembered.

He rode into the yard and dismounted. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the door opened, and Rhian's uncle appeared.

"Well met," Erestor said, bowing his head in greeting. The elderly man returned the greeting, but Erestor noticed that his usual cheerfulness was missing.

"Is Rhian on the fields?" the Elf asked, a question which caused the man to sigh.

"Erestor, my boy, come here and sit with me for a moment, we have some things to discuss."

Something was wrong, yes, very wrong, and a cold fear took possession of Erestor's heart. He sat down beside the man on the bench outside the cottage, and looked at him questioningly.

"It was the fever, Erestor, this last winter. Many of us caught it, and many died. Rhian and the children got it as well. She fought bravely, hoping to make it until March to see you one last time, but the illness was stronger. On the first day of the new year, we had to light her pyre."

"She is - dead?" Erestor croaked, and the man nodded sadly.

Dead. Could anything be more final than this? Rhian was mortal - a fact he had pushed aside all through the years. Mortal - this meant no Halls of Waiting, no rebirth, it meant a final cut, a farewell for ever, no chance of a reunion. It meant a turning point in his life.

Erestor felt as if he had been hit with a mace, his head spun and he felt a helpless anger rise in his chest. This was not fair! Who decided life and death? Námo? What reason did the Vala of Death have to take the little happiness he'd had? Why take the woman's life? A thought even more terrible crossed his mind, and Erestor dug his fingers deep into the man's arm.

"You said the children caught it as well - what happened to them? Are the boys..." He did not dare to speak the words aloud, but the man shook his head.

"The eldest finally recovered, and he's now living with me and the wife. He's a good lad, missing his mother terribly, of course, but we do all we can to give him a family. Your boy - now, that was amazing, he barely got a cough, and was up and bouncing within the week. They are both here."

A little guiltily, the man fiddled with the fastening of his shirt.

"Please don't think we took advantage, Erestor. It was Rhian's wish that we come and live here with the children, as her farm was bigger than ours."

Erestor did not answer. He did not care about the farm, or anything else. He only knew that a piece of his heart had been cut out, and that this wound hurt more than he thought he could bear. He thought he could still hear her laughter, and when he moved his head, he saw the bucket she had used to feed the pigs. Everything here was her, and to see all these things with the certain knowledge that she was gone and would never return was too much for Erestor. He got up, clenching his jaws and closing his fingers into fists, for he did not want to cry in front of the man.

Without a word, he crossed the yard and went to the fields, where he sat down. He buried his hands deep in the soil, and the feeling of the good earth calmed him a little. He began to sing a song of mourning, of loss and bereavement. The wind carried his voice over the fields and into the cottages of the other farmers, and they closed their windows and doors, saying a prayer, for they thought the haunting, terribly sad voice could not be of this world. Erestor hoped Rhian would hear his lament, wherever she might be now, as it was the last thing he could do for her. And maybe she would know, and understand, what he had never been able to tell her.

* * *

The boy had grown a lot since Erestor had last seen him, and he was already walking, which had forced the family to move every item within his reach on shelves and tables, because the little one was curious and pulled down everything he could get his little hands on.

Erestor watched him playing with the uncle's daughters. The two girls were obviously besotted with the child, and never tired of playing with him or telling him fairytales. Rhian's oldest son sat beside Erestor, snuggled up close to the Elf.

"I know this has come as a terrible shock, it was for all of us," the uncle began after he had filled his pipe, "but there are some things we need to discuss, Erestor. What shall happen with the children? Me and the wife would be happy to keep them, we'd love them like our own and you could visit your boy anytime you want. But as the little Elf is of your blood, the decision is yours."

The man leant a little closer and lowered his voice.

"Between you and me, Erestor - times here have become dangerous. The people of Breon want our land, and they are obsessed with Elves. They believe them to bring luck and wealth, and more than once, our king has sent out warriors to free some unfortunate Elf who had the bad luck to fall into their hands. I fear for the safety of your son. I'm a farmer, not a warrior, I couldn't protect him in the way that might be necessary."

Erestor frowned and thought about it for a moment.

"So you suggest I take him with me?"

The uncle nodded.

Take the child with him? Tell everybody in Imladris his secret? The thought terrified Erestor, but not as much as the thought that some evil might befall his little son. There was no question that he would take the little one with him, but how he would explain the situation back home, he had no idea.

Erestor turned to the other boy who had been following the conversation with big eyes.

"I promised your mother that I would be like a father to you. If you want to come with me and your brother to live with my kin, you are welcome to do so. But if you should decide to stay here with your uncle, I will not hold it against you. Please tell me, my boy, what is your wish? Speak freely and without fear."

The boy looked up at Erestor, chewing his lips. Though he loved the Elf and would miss his baby brother very much, he felt at home here. This was his mother's house, and he didn't want to leave his home and her things. His uncle and aunt were very kind to him, and he had his own horse now. So the child shook his head.

"I want to stay here," he whispered, hoping that Erestor wouldn't be angry with him. The Elf smiled, and pressed a gentle kiss on the child's head.

"Then you may, little one," he said, "but don't forget, if you ever need me, I will be there for you."

He was rewarded with a happy smile, and the uncle ruffled the boy's hair.

"Good lad, and so brave, just like his mother! So it's decided then, he stays with us, and you take your boy with you."

He drew on his pipe, then sighed sadly.

"We will miss him. He's a special boy, always cheerful and friendly, never moody or stubborn. You will find great joy in his company."

Erestor stared at the Elfling. He loved the child, there could be no doubt about it, but for Erestor, he was more of a responsibility than a joy, and he doubted that this would ever change. He was a skilled warrior and an excellent advisor. But as a parent, so Erestor felt, he would be a complete failure.

* * *

The journey from Osgiliath to Rivendell took them almost two months. Erestor had sent word to Lord Elrond that he needed a strong guard to accompany him back to Imladris, conveniently 'forgetting' to mention that he would not be travelling alone.

Had he been on his own, the journey would have taken him a month, but he could not risk it alone with the child. This aside, he could not ride as fast or as long with the little one, for the boy tired quickly.

It would have been easy to tell the guards that this was his son, and that he was bringing him home to live with him. None of the warriors would have asked any further questions. But somehow Erestor couldn't bring himself to tell the truth. It had taken Taldor, once again the captain of the guards, one glance to know whose child this was, but he did not comment. However, when Erestor muttered something about an "orphaned child" who had “lost his parents to the fever", his eyebrows arched towards his hairline, and he shook his head.

Only two more days, then they would arrive in Imladris. Erestor sat by the fire, holding the sleeping child in his arms. The little one had been remarkable, he never complained or whined, as if he understood that Erestor would not put him through this ordeal without need. Throughout the journey, Erestor had considered every aspect of the situation, and he had finally come to a decision: he was no father. Yes, he loved the child, but he knew he would never be able to show this love, or replace the boy’s mother. Erestor remembered his own childhood, how he had basked in the love of his family, and he did not want the little one to grow up with a stern, boring advisor. There should be laughter in the child's life, and a lot of love. Things, so Erestor had convinced himself, he could not give his son.

Erestor knew that there would be many a family in Imladris more than happy to raise the little boy as their own. Nobody knew that he was half-elven, and nobody knew of Erestor's involvement, save the three Elves who had accompanied him on that fateful trip seven years ago. But Erestor was certain they would never speak of this. The little one would grow up in a loving family, and Erestor, though never officially connected to his son, would see him grow up.

Erestor did not realise that his love for the boy ran deeper than that. He could not know that many a night would come when he would curse himself for giving up the child, for being a coward and not telling his son the truth. And he could not know that he was capable of giving love, that he could have been a good father to the child.

It took centuries and the love of Glorfindel to open Erestor's heart.

* * *

Glorfindel took a deep breath. He knew he should say something comforting now, but he was at loss for words. When he sensed Erestor's worried gaze on him, he ran his hand through his hair, and cleared his throat.

"This is... I really do not know what to say. So you never told the boy that he is your son? He does not know who his mother is and where he comes from?"

Erestor shook his head and stared down at the grass.

"This was a very wrong thing to do, Erestor. He had a right to know. How can we know where we are going to if we do not know where we come from?"

The advisor did not move.

"He also has a right to be happy," he whispered, "and he is happy. What good would it do if I told him that he lost his mother to the fever? That I was too much of a coward to look after him? Would this make him happier? I doubt it. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but at least I did not hurt him. He has loving parents and never missed out on anything. I often regretted that I gave him up, but I never regretted that I ensured his happiness."

For a while, the two sat in silence. It was a beautiful spring day, and Imladris had put on her most beautiful green gown. Glorfindel, however, would have preferred storm and hail, to suit his mood. When he turned to look at Erestor, he saw the lost expression on the advisor's face. The warrior reached out, put his arm around Erestor's shoulders and pulled him closer, and he would not rest until Erestor's head was safely nestled on his shoulder.

"I am sorry for your loss, Erestor, and I am sorry that I never met Rhian. She sounds like a wonderful person, and I am glad that you found happiness with her. I do not agree with the way you dealt with the situation, but I am not the one to judge. I do not know how I would have acted had I been in your place. Maybe, one day, you could try to find your son, and tell him the truth. Who knows - maybe he would welcome you in his life?"

Erestor did not answer, just rubbed his cheek on the soft velvet of Glorfindel's jerkin. Suddenly, the warrior had an idea - it was a crazy idea, and if the situation had not been so grave, he would have chuckled.

"Erestor - pray tell - is your son maybe still here? Do I even know him?"

The advisor sat straight up, and his face flushed crimson.

"Fin, I do not think that..."

"Estorel, see? There is your ada and your sia!"

Erestor's confession was interrupted by the arrival of Melpomaen, who had been looking after Estorel while Erestor and Glorfindel took their walk. The child sat on his shoulders, giggling wildly, pulling on the Elf's braids and yelling "Horsie! Horsie!" over and over again. Glorfindel snorted - if there was one Elf with bad timing, it was Melpomaen. Leave it to him to turn up at the worst possible moment!

"Sia! Sia!" Estorel called out when he saw Erestor, and waved. This was not a very clever thing to do, since he lost hold of his "horse" and fell off Melpomaen's shoulders. Erestor and Glorfindel both jumped up when they saw the child fall, but Melpomaen was quick and grabbed Estorel before the Elfling hit the ground.

"He might be the biggest gossip in Imladris, but his reflexes are extraordinary," Glorfindel muttered.

Melpomaen carried the Elfling over to his parents, and Estorel reached out for Glorfindel, who took his son and cuddled him, blowing a raspberry on the child's neck. Estorel giggled again, and pulled on Glorfindel's braids, a game he never seemed to tire of.

"Thank you for looking after Estorel, Melpomaen," Erestor said, smiling at the young advisor.

"Oh, no need to thank me, Master Erestor, it is always great fun to look after the little one. I regret that I have to return him to you, but Lord Elrond asked for me, and I cannot take him with me."

"That is fine, Melpomaen, we were about to return to the Last Homely House, anyway," Glorfindel replied, and then pretended to bite Estorel's nose off, eliciting another giggle from his son.

"Master Erestor, I have sorted the mail for you, and put the schedule for next week on your desk. If you wish to dictate any replies, please tell me, I would love to help you out."

"Thank you for your kind offer, Melpomaen, should I need your help I will certainly let you know."

Melpomaen blushed, and Glorfindel had to bury his face in Estorel's hair to hide a grin. The young advisor hero-worshipped Erestor greatly, an admiration Erestor found a little irritating at times.

Melpomaen bowed, then he reached out to ruffle Estorel's hair.

"Have a good day, you little rascal, and try not to bite anybody while I am away," he joked, and the child laughed. Glorfindel was glad that Estorel liked Melpomaen, for the child was very suspicious and it was not easy to find a childminder whom his son accepted. But Melpomaen, Glorfindel decided, looked harmless enough. There was usually a smile on his open, fresh face, and the gentle brown eyes knew no falseness.

The gentle brown eyes?

It was a good thing Estorel had a firm grip on his ada, for Glorfindel might have dropped the child. He swayed, and feared he might faint any moment.

Melpomaen, who felt Glorfindel's dumbfounded gaze on him, blushed again, and wondered what he had done to cause such a reaction. Lord Glorfindel was not an Elf anybody would willingly mess with, especially not Melpomaen, who looked like a sparrow beside the intimidating Balrog-slayer.

"My lord - did I say anything wrong? If so, my deepest apologies, it was not my intention to..." he began, but Glorfindel, who tried fervently to regain his composure, cut him off.

"Ah no, you have done nothing wrong. I just had an idea, and I wonder... Melpomaen, would you like to join us for dinner this evening? Lindir has composed some new songs which he will present to us, Lord Elrond and some council members. I know that you love music, so what do you say: would you like to come?"

Melpomaen, taken completely by surprise, blushed even more, and his heart missed a beat. He looked to Erestor, who had a very odd expression on his face. Maybe the advisor disapproved of the invitation?

"Master Erestor... I do not want to intrude... if you prefer that I do not come... it really is not necessary..." he stuttered, but Erestor shook his head.

"You are very welcome to join us, Melpomaen. I would be happy if you could come. Lindir has a beautiful voice, and what better way to welcome spring than by sharing a merry song?"

"Erestor is right, Melpomaen. In fact we would both be honoured if you would spend more time with us. Elves are born to be merry and share laughter, not to hide themselves away in their chambers. Do join us anytime you like, penneth - you will always be welcome."

Melpomaen smiled brightly, and if it had not been for the presence of Erestor, he would have jumped up and down in excitement.

"Thank you, thank you! Why, yes, of course, I will be there, thank you again, oh I cannot wait, I will be there, count on me, thank you, thank you!"

With that, he turned around, and all but ran back to the Last Homely House, where Elrond already waited for him with a reprimand for being late again.

Erestor's eyes followed Melpomaen until the young advisor disappeared through the gate. Then he turned to Glorfindel, and the warrior could see that he was crying. Erestor pressed a kiss on Glorfindel's lips, then stroked his cheek lovingly.

"Thank you, Fin," he simply said.

"No need to thank me," Glorfindel grumbled, lifting Estorel onto his shoulders, "I always said that Estorel should not grow up an only child."

With that, he headed back to the Last Homely House, accompanied by Estorel's cheerful "Horsie! Horsie!" cries and Erestor's eternal love.

* * *  
THE END


End file.
